Idolatry is born of Ignorance;Its sire is Fear, and cruel are its bands;Cunning and Greed come forward to advanceIts many claims; the tyrant understandsIt gives him consequence when he commands,And helps to keep his subjects dull and weak;The priest upholds it with his crafty hands,And by it keeps himself both fat and sleek,With conscience tenfold harder than his brassy cheek.Idolatry has human thought defiled,And filled the heart of man with groundless fear;It likens God unto the chieftain wild,Whose will is absolute and rule austere—Who scatters curses with a hand severeOn all who do not choose to bow and praise,Bestowing gifts on those who may appearBy word or deed, or both, his power to raise,Regardless of their merits or their wicked ways.The poor idolator expects to gainIn special favors from the god he owns;He mouths his prayers expecting to obtainSome kind of blessing through his pleading tones,While bowing low upon his marrow-bones,And has no thought of principle or law;He thinks his very abjectness atonesFor all offenses, and he stands in aweLest he offend the priest who smites him with his jaw.Idolatry but feeds the soul on stones,And makes it fear the living and the dead;It worships arbitrary power in bonesFrom which all power to harm or bless has fled;It puts a halo round some dead man's headAnd worships him as one whose blood atonesFor all the sins the human race hath bred;It fills the air with hideous wails and groans,With genuflexions that the most abjectness owns.The gods are many which the world adores;They may be stocks and stones, or creeds and books,Or saints or heroes; there are many scoresOf idols, both of good and evil looks,To which the idol-serving worldling crooksThe favor-seeking hinges of the knee;And then audaciously he freely brooksDisfavor of the many gods, that heMay serve at Mammon's shrine and roll in luxury!The known and unknown gods are set asideWhen Mammon's glitt'ring chariot rolls along;The churches all adore the pomp and prideOf Mammon's blazing cortege; weak and strongJoin in his train, unconscious of a wrong,And all the gods are chained unto his car;The "Unknown God" may get their Sunday song—On other days he's worshiped from afar!But, next to Mammon, men adore the god of war.Or saints, or books, or images, or cross,No matter what the object worshiped be,'Tis all the same—idolatrous and gross;It may be done in all sincerity,Or only done in base hypocrisy,As is the fancy of the worshiper;Both classes bend the superstitious knee,Hoping their god his favors will confer,Howe'er the supplicant in life and tho't may err!There is no efficacy in what's doneBy way of worship; all is empty show,External form; in not a single oneDoes it inspire a strong desire to goThe straight and narrow path of duty. No,Not e'en the most benighted devotee—The most sincere idolater we know—Conforms his daily conduct so that heShall realize the prayer of his idolatry.All worship is an inconsistent sham—An echo from the thrones of earthly kings,Who have the power to either bless or damnTheir subjects of this world in worldly things;It will be fostered in the church, which bringsA living fat for wily ministers,As long as folks will wear their leading-strings;But when the blood of independence stirsMen's hearts, they'll cease to bow as idol-worshipers.So long as thoughtless men deceive their soulsWith vague conjectures that a wordy prayerTheir destiny beyond the graveyard moulds,When breathed aloud into the empty air,To some unknown mysterious being there,Their conduct will be inconsistent, mad;Reason and common sense will have no shareIn guiding them to action, and the sadResults will only to the world's confusion add.How very low and groveling is this,And reeking with the very fumes of hell!As if mankind could win immortal blissBy idle words and forms, in which can dwellNo kind of virtue, no exalting spell!Let men but reason and they must beholdThat righteous living here alone can tellIn raising human destiny. The boldIn thought and action the most rapidly unfold.But some day men will learn that law supreme,Unchanging and unerring, rules us all;That there is neither low nor high extremeWhere special favors unto men may fall,Or privilege be granted at the callOf homage-giving beings who desireTo gain advantage, be it great or small;That selfishness can never raise men higher.And only deeds of good can aid those who aspire.Throw creeds and books and churches to the winds,Save as they furnish food for human thought;Shun every subtle manacle that bindsThe human reason—'tis with evil fraught;Bow not to books, nor saviors, nor aughtBut Truth and Justice and the love of Good;With these alone can be salvation bought;It was for these the Nazarene once stood—In these must every soul find its redemption food.Let men have faith in principle, and striveTo live in strict accord with equity;When at the door of truth they always knock,And deal no more in foolish mystery,But trim the lamp of reason so they seeThe right from wrong, and act the nobler part.Then will the human race be truly free;Then the millennium will surely startWith the millennial conditions in the heart.'Tis not by exaltation of one's selfThe prize of real happiness is won;'Tis not by hoarding piles of worldly pelfThat we can win the plaudit of "well done;"'Tis not by self abasement we can shunThe painful consequence of evil ways;'Tis not by wordy prayer to God or SonWe can prolong the measure of our days;But living right, with duty done, forever pays.Then break your idols, oh! ye men of might,If ye would number with the truly strong;Strike ye for Justice, Freedom and the Right,If ye would join the ever-happy throngThat sing in unison redemption's song;Fling out the banner of the Brotherhood,Bear it before you as ye march along;Plant it where every idol erst has stood,Proclaim to all mankind the Universal Good.If you would follow Christ, or be like God,You must, like them, be ever doing good;You must arise above the brutal clod;You must stand out, as Jesus Christ once stood,The sturdy friend of God's great multitude—That helpless mass of wronged and suffering poor,Who now are trampled on by Mammon's brood;You must hold up to scorn the evil-doer,Put down the foul and raise aloft the good and pure.In no belief or unbelief, nor prayer,Can men redemption from their errors find;No worship of the things of earth of air,Or heaven or hell, or of the human mind,Can from a single fetter e'er unbindOne sinning brother. Only deeds aloneDone in the love of what is good and kind,Can for the smallest human wrong atone;Then worship not at all, but see that good is done.Worship is mockery, but only cheatsThe worshiper, who fancies he can guideThe forces of the universe, and beatsThe air with empty words; and, worse beside,It dulls man's intellect and leads him wideAstray from the true path of duty here;It seeks for ends through setting laws aside,When all must be fulfilled. Hence it is clearThe worshiper, through prayer seeketh to rule this sphere.No jot nor tittle will the law abateTill all shall be fulfilled; nor can man makeOne hair or black or white, howe'er he prate;Nor add unto his stature, though he takeNo end of thought and prayer, nor can he shakeThe purpose of any higher power;But if he could, there would be cause to quake—For all would come to chaos in an hourAnd death and darkness quickly all things would devour.Then be ye not idolatrous, nor bowIn worship unto things unseen or seen,But bide your lot with clear, unclouded brow,And child-like trust the powers that e'er have been;They're watching o'er us all with vision keenAnd love unquenchable forevermore;In turn, they ask our love, our faith serene,And wait to welcome us, when earth is o'er,To homes of peace and bliss on Heaven's eternal shore.
Idolatry is born of Ignorance;Its sire is Fear, and cruel are its bands;Cunning and Greed come forward to advanceIts many claims; the tyrant understandsIt gives him consequence when he commands,And helps to keep his subjects dull and weak;The priest upholds it with his crafty hands,And by it keeps himself both fat and sleek,With conscience tenfold harder than his brassy cheek.Idolatry has human thought defiled,And filled the heart of man with groundless fear;It likens God unto the chieftain wild,Whose will is absolute and rule austere—Who scatters curses with a hand severeOn all who do not choose to bow and praise,Bestowing gifts on those who may appearBy word or deed, or both, his power to raise,Regardless of their merits or their wicked ways.The poor idolator expects to gainIn special favors from the god he owns;He mouths his prayers expecting to obtainSome kind of blessing through his pleading tones,While bowing low upon his marrow-bones,And has no thought of principle or law;He thinks his very abjectness atonesFor all offenses, and he stands in aweLest he offend the priest who smites him with his jaw.Idolatry but feeds the soul on stones,And makes it fear the living and the dead;It worships arbitrary power in bonesFrom which all power to harm or bless has fled;It puts a halo round some dead man's headAnd worships him as one whose blood atonesFor all the sins the human race hath bred;It fills the air with hideous wails and groans,With genuflexions that the most abjectness owns.The gods are many which the world adores;They may be stocks and stones, or creeds and books,Or saints or heroes; there are many scoresOf idols, both of good and evil looks,To which the idol-serving worldling crooksThe favor-seeking hinges of the knee;And then audaciously he freely brooksDisfavor of the many gods, that heMay serve at Mammon's shrine and roll in luxury!The known and unknown gods are set asideWhen Mammon's glitt'ring chariot rolls along;The churches all adore the pomp and prideOf Mammon's blazing cortege; weak and strongJoin in his train, unconscious of a wrong,And all the gods are chained unto his car;The "Unknown God" may get their Sunday song—On other days he's worshiped from afar!But, next to Mammon, men adore the god of war.Or saints, or books, or images, or cross,No matter what the object worshiped be,'Tis all the same—idolatrous and gross;It may be done in all sincerity,Or only done in base hypocrisy,As is the fancy of the worshiper;Both classes bend the superstitious knee,Hoping their god his favors will confer,Howe'er the supplicant in life and tho't may err!There is no efficacy in what's doneBy way of worship; all is empty show,External form; in not a single oneDoes it inspire a strong desire to goThe straight and narrow path of duty. No,Not e'en the most benighted devotee—The most sincere idolater we know—Conforms his daily conduct so that heShall realize the prayer of his idolatry.All worship is an inconsistent sham—An echo from the thrones of earthly kings,Who have the power to either bless or damnTheir subjects of this world in worldly things;It will be fostered in the church, which bringsA living fat for wily ministers,As long as folks will wear their leading-strings;But when the blood of independence stirsMen's hearts, they'll cease to bow as idol-worshipers.So long as thoughtless men deceive their soulsWith vague conjectures that a wordy prayerTheir destiny beyond the graveyard moulds,When breathed aloud into the empty air,To some unknown mysterious being there,Their conduct will be inconsistent, mad;Reason and common sense will have no shareIn guiding them to action, and the sadResults will only to the world's confusion add.How very low and groveling is this,And reeking with the very fumes of hell!As if mankind could win immortal blissBy idle words and forms, in which can dwellNo kind of virtue, no exalting spell!Let men but reason and they must beholdThat righteous living here alone can tellIn raising human destiny. The boldIn thought and action the most rapidly unfold.But some day men will learn that law supreme,Unchanging and unerring, rules us all;That there is neither low nor high extremeWhere special favors unto men may fall,Or privilege be granted at the callOf homage-giving beings who desireTo gain advantage, be it great or small;That selfishness can never raise men higher.And only deeds of good can aid those who aspire.Throw creeds and books and churches to the winds,Save as they furnish food for human thought;Shun every subtle manacle that bindsThe human reason—'tis with evil fraught;Bow not to books, nor saviors, nor aughtBut Truth and Justice and the love of Good;With these alone can be salvation bought;It was for these the Nazarene once stood—In these must every soul find its redemption food.Let men have faith in principle, and striveTo live in strict accord with equity;When at the door of truth they always knock,And deal no more in foolish mystery,But trim the lamp of reason so they seeThe right from wrong, and act the nobler part.Then will the human race be truly free;Then the millennium will surely startWith the millennial conditions in the heart.'Tis not by exaltation of one's selfThe prize of real happiness is won;'Tis not by hoarding piles of worldly pelfThat we can win the plaudit of "well done;"'Tis not by self abasement we can shunThe painful consequence of evil ways;'Tis not by wordy prayer to God or SonWe can prolong the measure of our days;But living right, with duty done, forever pays.Then break your idols, oh! ye men of might,If ye would number with the truly strong;Strike ye for Justice, Freedom and the Right,If ye would join the ever-happy throngThat sing in unison redemption's song;Fling out the banner of the Brotherhood,Bear it before you as ye march along;Plant it where every idol erst has stood,Proclaim to all mankind the Universal Good.If you would follow Christ, or be like God,You must, like them, be ever doing good;You must arise above the brutal clod;You must stand out, as Jesus Christ once stood,The sturdy friend of God's great multitude—That helpless mass of wronged and suffering poor,Who now are trampled on by Mammon's brood;You must hold up to scorn the evil-doer,Put down the foul and raise aloft the good and pure.In no belief or unbelief, nor prayer,Can men redemption from their errors find;No worship of the things of earth of air,Or heaven or hell, or of the human mind,Can from a single fetter e'er unbindOne sinning brother. Only deeds aloneDone in the love of what is good and kind,Can for the smallest human wrong atone;Then worship not at all, but see that good is done.Worship is mockery, but only cheatsThe worshiper, who fancies he can guideThe forces of the universe, and beatsThe air with empty words; and, worse beside,It dulls man's intellect and leads him wideAstray from the true path of duty here;It seeks for ends through setting laws aside,When all must be fulfilled. Hence it is clearThe worshiper, through prayer seeketh to rule this sphere.No jot nor tittle will the law abateTill all shall be fulfilled; nor can man makeOne hair or black or white, howe'er he prate;Nor add unto his stature, though he takeNo end of thought and prayer, nor can he shakeThe purpose of any higher power;But if he could, there would be cause to quake—For all would come to chaos in an hourAnd death and darkness quickly all things would devour.Then be ye not idolatrous, nor bowIn worship unto things unseen or seen,But bide your lot with clear, unclouded brow,And child-like trust the powers that e'er have been;They're watching o'er us all with vision keenAnd love unquenchable forevermore;In turn, they ask our love, our faith serene,And wait to welcome us, when earth is o'er,To homes of peace and bliss on Heaven's eternal shore.
Idolatry is born of Ignorance;Its sire is Fear, and cruel are its bands;Cunning and Greed come forward to advanceIts many claims; the tyrant understandsIt gives him consequence when he commands,And helps to keep his subjects dull and weak;The priest upholds it with his crafty hands,And by it keeps himself both fat and sleek,With conscience tenfold harder than his brassy cheek.Idolatry has human thought defiled,And filled the heart of man with groundless fear;It likens God unto the chieftain wild,Whose will is absolute and rule austere—Who scatters curses with a hand severeOn all who do not choose to bow and praise,Bestowing gifts on those who may appearBy word or deed, or both, his power to raise,Regardless of their merits or their wicked ways.The poor idolator expects to gainIn special favors from the god he owns;He mouths his prayers expecting to obtainSome kind of blessing through his pleading tones,While bowing low upon his marrow-bones,And has no thought of principle or law;He thinks his very abjectness atonesFor all offenses, and he stands in aweLest he offend the priest who smites him with his jaw.Idolatry but feeds the soul on stones,And makes it fear the living and the dead;It worships arbitrary power in bonesFrom which all power to harm or bless has fled;It puts a halo round some dead man's headAnd worships him as one whose blood atonesFor all the sins the human race hath bred;It fills the air with hideous wails and groans,With genuflexions that the most abjectness owns.The gods are many which the world adores;They may be stocks and stones, or creeds and books,Or saints or heroes; there are many scoresOf idols, both of good and evil looks,To which the idol-serving worldling crooksThe favor-seeking hinges of the knee;And then audaciously he freely brooksDisfavor of the many gods, that heMay serve at Mammon's shrine and roll in luxury!The known and unknown gods are set asideWhen Mammon's glitt'ring chariot rolls along;The churches all adore the pomp and prideOf Mammon's blazing cortege; weak and strongJoin in his train, unconscious of a wrong,And all the gods are chained unto his car;The "Unknown God" may get their Sunday song—On other days he's worshiped from afar!But, next to Mammon, men adore the god of war.Or saints, or books, or images, or cross,No matter what the object worshiped be,'Tis all the same—idolatrous and gross;It may be done in all sincerity,Or only done in base hypocrisy,As is the fancy of the worshiper;Both classes bend the superstitious knee,Hoping their god his favors will confer,Howe'er the supplicant in life and tho't may err!There is no efficacy in what's doneBy way of worship; all is empty show,External form; in not a single oneDoes it inspire a strong desire to goThe straight and narrow path of duty. No,Not e'en the most benighted devotee—The most sincere idolater we know—Conforms his daily conduct so that heShall realize the prayer of his idolatry.All worship is an inconsistent sham—An echo from the thrones of earthly kings,Who have the power to either bless or damnTheir subjects of this world in worldly things;It will be fostered in the church, which bringsA living fat for wily ministers,As long as folks will wear their leading-strings;But when the blood of independence stirsMen's hearts, they'll cease to bow as idol-worshipers.So long as thoughtless men deceive their soulsWith vague conjectures that a wordy prayerTheir destiny beyond the graveyard moulds,When breathed aloud into the empty air,To some unknown mysterious being there,Their conduct will be inconsistent, mad;Reason and common sense will have no shareIn guiding them to action, and the sadResults will only to the world's confusion add.How very low and groveling is this,And reeking with the very fumes of hell!As if mankind could win immortal blissBy idle words and forms, in which can dwellNo kind of virtue, no exalting spell!Let men but reason and they must beholdThat righteous living here alone can tellIn raising human destiny. The boldIn thought and action the most rapidly unfold.But some day men will learn that law supreme,Unchanging and unerring, rules us all;That there is neither low nor high extremeWhere special favors unto men may fall,Or privilege be granted at the callOf homage-giving beings who desireTo gain advantage, be it great or small;That selfishness can never raise men higher.And only deeds of good can aid those who aspire.Throw creeds and books and churches to the winds,Save as they furnish food for human thought;Shun every subtle manacle that bindsThe human reason—'tis with evil fraught;Bow not to books, nor saviors, nor aughtBut Truth and Justice and the love of Good;With these alone can be salvation bought;It was for these the Nazarene once stood—In these must every soul find its redemption food.Let men have faith in principle, and striveTo live in strict accord with equity;When at the door of truth they always knock,And deal no more in foolish mystery,But trim the lamp of reason so they seeThe right from wrong, and act the nobler part.Then will the human race be truly free;Then the millennium will surely startWith the millennial conditions in the heart.'Tis not by exaltation of one's selfThe prize of real happiness is won;'Tis not by hoarding piles of worldly pelfThat we can win the plaudit of "well done;"'Tis not by self abasement we can shunThe painful consequence of evil ways;'Tis not by wordy prayer to God or SonWe can prolong the measure of our days;But living right, with duty done, forever pays.Then break your idols, oh! ye men of might,If ye would number with the truly strong;Strike ye for Justice, Freedom and the Right,If ye would join the ever-happy throngThat sing in unison redemption's song;Fling out the banner of the Brotherhood,Bear it before you as ye march along;Plant it where every idol erst has stood,Proclaim to all mankind the Universal Good.If you would follow Christ, or be like God,You must, like them, be ever doing good;You must arise above the brutal clod;You must stand out, as Jesus Christ once stood,The sturdy friend of God's great multitude—That helpless mass of wronged and suffering poor,Who now are trampled on by Mammon's brood;You must hold up to scorn the evil-doer,Put down the foul and raise aloft the good and pure.In no belief or unbelief, nor prayer,Can men redemption from their errors find;No worship of the things of earth of air,Or heaven or hell, or of the human mind,Can from a single fetter e'er unbindOne sinning brother. Only deeds aloneDone in the love of what is good and kind,Can for the smallest human wrong atone;Then worship not at all, but see that good is done.Worship is mockery, but only cheatsThe worshiper, who fancies he can guideThe forces of the universe, and beatsThe air with empty words; and, worse beside,It dulls man's intellect and leads him wideAstray from the true path of duty here;It seeks for ends through setting laws aside,When all must be fulfilled. Hence it is clearThe worshiper, through prayer seeketh to rule this sphere.No jot nor tittle will the law abateTill all shall be fulfilled; nor can man makeOne hair or black or white, howe'er he prate;Nor add unto his stature, though he takeNo end of thought and prayer, nor can he shakeThe purpose of any higher power;But if he could, there would be cause to quake—For all would come to chaos in an hourAnd death and darkness quickly all things would devour.Then be ye not idolatrous, nor bowIn worship unto things unseen or seen,But bide your lot with clear, unclouded brow,And child-like trust the powers that e'er have been;They're watching o'er us all with vision keenAnd love unquenchable forevermore;In turn, they ask our love, our faith serene,And wait to welcome us, when earth is o'er,To homes of peace and bliss on Heaven's eternal shore.
Idolatry is born of Ignorance;Its sire is Fear, and cruel are its bands;Cunning and Greed come forward to advanceIts many claims; the tyrant understandsIt gives him consequence when he commands,And helps to keep his subjects dull and weak;The priest upholds it with his crafty hands,And by it keeps himself both fat and sleek,With conscience tenfold harder than his brassy cheek.
Idolatry has human thought defiled,And filled the heart of man with groundless fear;It likens God unto the chieftain wild,Whose will is absolute and rule austere—Who scatters curses with a hand severeOn all who do not choose to bow and praise,Bestowing gifts on those who may appearBy word or deed, or both, his power to raise,Regardless of their merits or their wicked ways.
The poor idolator expects to gainIn special favors from the god he owns;He mouths his prayers expecting to obtainSome kind of blessing through his pleading tones,While bowing low upon his marrow-bones,And has no thought of principle or law;He thinks his very abjectness atonesFor all offenses, and he stands in aweLest he offend the priest who smites him with his jaw.
Idolatry but feeds the soul on stones,And makes it fear the living and the dead;It worships arbitrary power in bonesFrom which all power to harm or bless has fled;It puts a halo round some dead man's headAnd worships him as one whose blood atonesFor all the sins the human race hath bred;It fills the air with hideous wails and groans,With genuflexions that the most abjectness owns.
The gods are many which the world adores;They may be stocks and stones, or creeds and books,Or saints or heroes; there are many scoresOf idols, both of good and evil looks,To which the idol-serving worldling crooksThe favor-seeking hinges of the knee;And then audaciously he freely brooksDisfavor of the many gods, that heMay serve at Mammon's shrine and roll in luxury!
The known and unknown gods are set asideWhen Mammon's glitt'ring chariot rolls along;The churches all adore the pomp and prideOf Mammon's blazing cortege; weak and strongJoin in his train, unconscious of a wrong,And all the gods are chained unto his car;The "Unknown God" may get their Sunday song—On other days he's worshiped from afar!But, next to Mammon, men adore the god of war.
Or saints, or books, or images, or cross,No matter what the object worshiped be,'Tis all the same—idolatrous and gross;It may be done in all sincerity,Or only done in base hypocrisy,As is the fancy of the worshiper;Both classes bend the superstitious knee,Hoping their god his favors will confer,Howe'er the supplicant in life and tho't may err!
There is no efficacy in what's doneBy way of worship; all is empty show,External form; in not a single oneDoes it inspire a strong desire to goThe straight and narrow path of duty. No,Not e'en the most benighted devotee—The most sincere idolater we know—Conforms his daily conduct so that heShall realize the prayer of his idolatry.
All worship is an inconsistent sham—An echo from the thrones of earthly kings,Who have the power to either bless or damnTheir subjects of this world in worldly things;It will be fostered in the church, which bringsA living fat for wily ministers,As long as folks will wear their leading-strings;But when the blood of independence stirsMen's hearts, they'll cease to bow as idol-worshipers.
So long as thoughtless men deceive their soulsWith vague conjectures that a wordy prayerTheir destiny beyond the graveyard moulds,When breathed aloud into the empty air,To some unknown mysterious being there,Their conduct will be inconsistent, mad;Reason and common sense will have no shareIn guiding them to action, and the sadResults will only to the world's confusion add.
How very low and groveling is this,And reeking with the very fumes of hell!As if mankind could win immortal blissBy idle words and forms, in which can dwellNo kind of virtue, no exalting spell!Let men but reason and they must beholdThat righteous living here alone can tellIn raising human destiny. The boldIn thought and action the most rapidly unfold.
But some day men will learn that law supreme,Unchanging and unerring, rules us all;That there is neither low nor high extremeWhere special favors unto men may fall,Or privilege be granted at the callOf homage-giving beings who desireTo gain advantage, be it great or small;That selfishness can never raise men higher.And only deeds of good can aid those who aspire.
Throw creeds and books and churches to the winds,Save as they furnish food for human thought;Shun every subtle manacle that bindsThe human reason—'tis with evil fraught;Bow not to books, nor saviors, nor aughtBut Truth and Justice and the love of Good;With these alone can be salvation bought;It was for these the Nazarene once stood—In these must every soul find its redemption food.
Let men have faith in principle, and striveTo live in strict accord with equity;When at the door of truth they always knock,And deal no more in foolish mystery,But trim the lamp of reason so they seeThe right from wrong, and act the nobler part.Then will the human race be truly free;Then the millennium will surely startWith the millennial conditions in the heart.
'Tis not by exaltation of one's selfThe prize of real happiness is won;'Tis not by hoarding piles of worldly pelfThat we can win the plaudit of "well done;"'Tis not by self abasement we can shunThe painful consequence of evil ways;'Tis not by wordy prayer to God or SonWe can prolong the measure of our days;But living right, with duty done, forever pays.
Then break your idols, oh! ye men of might,If ye would number with the truly strong;Strike ye for Justice, Freedom and the Right,If ye would join the ever-happy throngThat sing in unison redemption's song;Fling out the banner of the Brotherhood,Bear it before you as ye march along;Plant it where every idol erst has stood,Proclaim to all mankind the Universal Good.
If you would follow Christ, or be like God,You must, like them, be ever doing good;You must arise above the brutal clod;You must stand out, as Jesus Christ once stood,The sturdy friend of God's great multitude—That helpless mass of wronged and suffering poor,Who now are trampled on by Mammon's brood;You must hold up to scorn the evil-doer,Put down the foul and raise aloft the good and pure.
In no belief or unbelief, nor prayer,Can men redemption from their errors find;No worship of the things of earth of air,Or heaven or hell, or of the human mind,Can from a single fetter e'er unbindOne sinning brother. Only deeds aloneDone in the love of what is good and kind,Can for the smallest human wrong atone;Then worship not at all, but see that good is done.
Worship is mockery, but only cheatsThe worshiper, who fancies he can guideThe forces of the universe, and beatsThe air with empty words; and, worse beside,It dulls man's intellect and leads him wideAstray from the true path of duty here;It seeks for ends through setting laws aside,When all must be fulfilled. Hence it is clearThe worshiper, through prayer seeketh to rule this sphere.
No jot nor tittle will the law abateTill all shall be fulfilled; nor can man makeOne hair or black or white, howe'er he prate;Nor add unto his stature, though he takeNo end of thought and prayer, nor can he shakeThe purpose of any higher power;But if he could, there would be cause to quake—For all would come to chaos in an hourAnd death and darkness quickly all things would devour.
Then be ye not idolatrous, nor bowIn worship unto things unseen or seen,But bide your lot with clear, unclouded brow,And child-like trust the powers that e'er have been;They're watching o'er us all with vision keenAnd love unquenchable forevermore;In turn, they ask our love, our faith serene,And wait to welcome us, when earth is o'er,To homes of peace and bliss on Heaven's eternal shore.
FINIS
Transcriber's NotesPunctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.Simple typographical errors were corrected. The following discrepancies have not been changed:Page 6: "So claiming should bow down before the good." was not indented as were the other last-lines in this section of the book.Page 10, last line: "Quite soon returns to make its victims bleed;" included a hand-written change that replaced "victims" with "authors".Page 36: "Bow not to books, nor saviors, nor aught" included a hand-written change that inserted "to" before "aught."
Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.
Simple typographical errors were corrected. The following discrepancies have not been changed:
Page 6: "So claiming should bow down before the good." was not indented as were the other last-lines in this section of the book.
Page 10, last line: "Quite soon returns to make its victims bleed;" included a hand-written change that replaced "victims" with "authors".
Page 36: "Bow not to books, nor saviors, nor aught" included a hand-written change that inserted "to" before "aught."